Never would Patty Porter have imagined that the man who killed her daughter, Jessie Davis, 10 years ago would now feel like a son to her.

By Kelli Weir Repository staff writer

Patty Porter would lie awake at night practicing what she would say to the man who killed her life-loving, 26-year-old daughter and her unborn granddaughter.

A man who lied to her, authorities and everyone else about their whereabouts for eight torturous days. A man with the gall to join thousands of volunteers searching for her daughter across northern Stark County even though he knew he had buried her pregnant body in a shallow grave miles away in a Summit County park.

From the moment authorities arrested Bobby Cutts Jr. for Jessie Davis' death, Porter would see herself grabbing her daughter's former boyfriend by the shoulders, shaking him and demanding answers.

Why? Why wouldn't you just call someone — me, 911, the paramedics — when you realized she was dead?

How could you leave Blake, your 2-year-old son, your own flesh and blood, home alone for more than 24 hours and pretend nothing happened?

Are you capable of telling the truth?

All those conversations ran through Porter's mind again at the Stark County Courthouse when an assistant county prosecutor called her name to come forward to the podium nearly a decade ago.

It was her turn to give her victim impact statement — to tell Cutts and Stark County Common Pleas Judge Charles E. Brown Jr. about the trauma inflicted on her and her family before Brown rendered Cutts' prison sentence. A jury had convicted the former Canton City police officer of murdering Davis and their unborn daughter, Chloe. Jurors recommended that the judge spare Cutts' life and sentence him to life in prison with the possibility of parole in 30 years.

Porter, the matriarch of the Davis family who took her maiden name following her divorce a year before Davis died, smoothed the papers of her statement flat against the podium.

"I want you to look at me," she told Cutts, her voice strained with emotion.

She began to tell Cutts how God has assured her that Davis was with him and she was fine. She also said she promised God she would forgive the person who did this to her daughter.

Porter looked down at her statement again. All the words she had written — all the conversations in her head — no longer made sense.

She paused to collect herself and began again, this time without the paper.

"I serve an amazing God, Bobby, a God that forgives and heals and restores people," she said. "I want you to know today that I do forgive you."

She prayed that Cutts would find God and the forgiveness that no one else could give him. And that one day he would tell the truth.

Turning to the judge, Porter asked him to spare Cutts' life so one day he could hold his son.

She looked back at Cutts, "I hope you pray that I am able to raise him to forgive you. He knows what you did."

A life sentence

Never would Porter have imagined that Cutts would become like a son to her less than 10 years after Davis' death on June 14, 2007.

That at age 12, Blake, the spitting image of Cutts, would feel an inseparable bond with his father.

Or that she would be joining the effort to seek Cutts' early release from prison.

The judge's sentence was life in prison with the first possibility of parole in 57 years. That requires Cutts to wait until April 2064 before a state parole panel can begin to consider his release. Cutts, who grew up in Plain Township, would be one month shy of his 87th birthday then. Blake would be 59.

Porter left the Stark County Courthouse in February 2008 believing she wouldn't speak to Cutts again for at least another decade. She told the throng of local and national media that Blake would have no contact with Cutts until he was old enough to decide for himself whether he wanted to pursue a relationship with his incarcerated father.

She said she would try to shield Blake from any negative comments against Cutts so Blake's view of his father would not be spoiled.

In the meantime, she said her priority was to make life as normal as possible for Blake and her other six children who ranged in age from 13 to 23.

She soon learned that life never is quite normal when your family has been the focus of national media attention. Well-meaning strangers would approach her and Blake in the store and talk to them as though they were family because they had seen them and Davis so much on TV. Blake at one point asked whether his mother was a movie star because everyone seemed to know who she was.

Porter also faced backlash from people who blamed her for allowing her daughter to date a black man and from those who criticized Davis for having a child with a married man. Some people, including fellow Christians and members of her own family, disapproved of her decision to forgive Cutts and condemned her for even considering to allow that monster to see his son again.

Perhaps one of the toughest battles for Porter in the aftermath of Davis' death was trying to avoid the thoughts of Cutts that would creep into her consciousness.

'Why do I care about this man?'

Those thoughts came most often during her morning walks along a track near the Green Fire Department. She would be praying as she walked, mentally going through her list of people in need of God's hand, when she would feel the burden of Cutts weighing on her mind.

She would think about Cutts sitting in prison. As a former volunteer for Chuck Colson's prison ministry, she knew all too well the hostile environment he was facing. Her mind also would wander to what it would be like to do something that no amount of "I'm sorrys" ever could fix.

After weeks of pushing Cutts out of her mind, Porter gave in. She sat on a bench at the edge of the walking path and asked God, "Why do I care about this man?"

In a voice so powerful that she wondered if it was audible to others, she heard God respond, "Because I care about him. That's why you care."

That God would care as much about a murderer and liar as he does about her and her dead daughter was a revelation to Porter, who had returned to Christ at age 26 after years of her own misguided decisions.

When Porter chose to forgive Cutts for her daughter's death, she did it because the Bible teaches Christians to forgive others as they have been forgiven. She also believed it was the first step toward healing for her and Blake.

She didn't do it because she thought God wanted her to care about Cutts.

Porter hadn't approved of her daughter's roughly three-year, on-again-off-again relationship with Cutts. While he was nice enough, he already had two children with two different women. Porter wanted more for her child.

But Davis was in love — and soon pregnant with Blake. Blake's birth in December 2004 required Porter and Cutts to interact more, although their conversations remained limited to what Blake had eaten that day and whether he had a nap.

In the weeks following her revelation, Porter began to realize that it would be Blake who would bring her and Cutts together again.

Hello, Bobby

Blake, who often talked about missing his mom and dad, began worrying about his father's safety. He knew his dad couldn't leave prison to come see him. So what if there was a fire? Could his dad get out?

Porter tried to ease the boy's fears by taking him to a department store to show him the sprinkler system, but Blake remained concerned. He wanted to contact his dad to make sure he was OK.

He decided he would send his dad a letter. But at age 4, he didn't yet know how to write, so he begged Porter and his other relatives for help.

After weeks of nagging with no results, the typically passive child stood in the family's kitchen, stomped his foot and declared, "Somebody is going to write that letter for me."

Porter could tell that she couldn't put it off any longer. That night, Blake nestled in next to Porter on her queen-size bed to dictate what he wanted to say to his dad in the letter. He talked about his day and his latest accomplishments as she dutifully transcribed his message, occasionally correcting a grammatically wrong word.

"Dad, I love you but I'm angry at you because you made my mom go to heaven," he said.

He said he knew his dad was sorry and that he still loved him.

"And that's the end of that and I will never say bad words to you again."

Blake continued dictating his letters over the next year. The letters eventually gave way to phone calls. Still, Blake desperately wanted to see his dad.

Visiting prison

It took Porter roughly two years and dozens of letters to persuade state prison officials to allow Blake to visit Cutts.

"The first time they said no, and I kind of was like, 'OK, no means no,'" Porter said. "Then I thought, 'No, I'm not going to accept that.' So, I wrote again. And again. And then I started writing to different people."

Prison officials relented after Porter sent them a letter from Blake's counselor endorsing the visit.

Blake was about 6 years old when he walked into Toledo Correctional Institution for the first time.

The last time he saw his father he was 2. He had told police his mommy had broken the table and was in the rug, and daddy was mad.

When Cutts walked into the prison's reception room where Blake had been waiting anxiously with Porter and Cutts' family, the years and circumstances disappeared.

Blake rushed to greet him, wrapping his arms around Cutts' leg. Cutts then turned to Porter. Hugs and tears came before words.

The desolation of the prison faded into the background as Blake sat on his father's lap and excitedly rattled off a list of things he had done since he last talked to his father. For three hours, they laughed and played board games and talked some more.

Blake was so excited about seeing his dad that Porter took him back to his counselor the following day. She expected to need another referral letter for Blake to visit again.

The counselor recommended more visits, calling the initial visit one of the most promising experiences for Blake yet.

But prison officials didn't agree. In their denial letter, they stated while they appreciated the counselor's professional opinion, they didn't believe subsequent visits were in Blake's best interest.

Porter was appalled. How could they deny the request when they had never met Blake? How could they possibly know what was in his best interest?

She wrote more letters. She also garnered help from people with connections to state political leaders and national civil rights activists. Eventually, something grabbed the attention of the state director and Blake's visits were approved.

Unbreakable bond

At age 12 and headed into the seventh grade, Blake remains just as eager to visit his father in prison today as he did at age 6.

Porter believes he would try to visit Cutts nearly every weekend if it weren't for the honor student's school activities, soccer and the nearly two-hour trek from their Coventry Township split-level home. Cutts transferred in 2013 to Marion Correctional Institution, west of Mansfield.

"He's never showed one bit of embarrassment or shame about his dad or that he visits his dad in prison," Porter said.

Blake sleeps every night with a pillow that Cutts gave him that features a photo of them printed on one side with the words, "I'm praying for you." The other side reads, "Sleep tight."

On his dresser sit framed photos of him and Cutts taken during their prison visits. They sit next to a photo of Blake and Davis wearing birthday party hats and a portrait of him, Davis and Porter.

Porter believes Blake has been able to develop such a bond with his dad because he was raised knowing that she forgave Cutts.

"It's much easier to forgive someone you love than someone you hate," Porter said. "If he would have been raised in an environment of hatred and didn't love his dad, I don't know if he would ever have forgiven him."

A few months ago, Cutts wrote Blake a letter to say he was sorry that he changed his normal life 10 years ago. He wrote that although he couldn't go back and change it now, he wanted him to know that if there's anything he could do to help him to find his new normal, he would do it.

Porter hopes someday soon Blake and his father can spend time as father and son outside prison walls.

Early release?

Porter is writing letters again, this time seeking Cutts' early release from prison.

"I felt like he had to go (to prison), but now when Blake needs his dad in his life, he's the one that suffers the most," she said.

While she's not sure what exactly happened in her daughter's duplex in June 2007 — Cutts testified at his trial that he inadvertently elbowed Davis in the throat when she tried to stop him leaving her home during an argument — Porter believes it was an accident. Cutts had never had been violent before with Davis. She believes Cutts panicked when he couldn't resuscitate Davis because he knew no one ever would believe a black man accidentally killed a white pregnant woman.

Porter, who refers to Cutts as a brother in Christ, believes he's a different person than when he was sent to prison.

"I think he's been broken and I think he has allowed God to heal him," she said. "He's someone who I have complete trust in. I don't think I see him through rose-colored glasses, but I see a person who has been forgiven and who has found redemption. I don't think there's one thing fake about him."

Porter knows that not everyone, including members of her own family, agrees with her decision to seek Cutts' early release.

"I think they understand the forgiveness part, but I don't think very many people understand the relationship part," she said. "Unless you walk down this path, I'm not sure you can."

She also knows that Cutts' chances of being released early are slim. He's exhausted his legal appeals and Ohio Gov. John Kasich has approved less than 4 percent of the requests for clemency since becoming governor six years ago. And county prosecutors are sure to object any bid for early release just as they had done throughout his appeals.

Yet, Porter, now 70, believes in her gut that Cutts will be released in time to see Blake graduate from high school in six years. She's not alone.

Blake has told relatives that he believes his dad will be released when he's 16. Cutts' mother, Renee Jones-Showalter, who has developed a close relationship with Porter over the past decade, envisions Cutts returning home and becoming a youth minister.

"I believe Patty and Blake will be the ones to get him home," she said.

Cutts, in an interview from prison, said he's put his faith in God — and Porter.

"People are in your life for a reason and we don't always know that reason," he said. "I think Patty is living out her reason right now in my life."

Repository special projects editor Todd Porter contributed to this story.